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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825130">Will it Wash out in the Water (or is it Always in the Blood)?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberthismoment/pseuds/rememberthismoment'>rememberthismoment</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Rookie (TV 2018)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angela Lopez is a Queen, F/M, Future Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Lucy's pregnant, Mild Language, Pregnancy, Tim has feelings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:22:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29825130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rememberthismoment/pseuds/rememberthismoment</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"What if I screw this up?" </p><p>There's a few beats of just her breathing and the sound of her nails tracing circles against the cotton of his t-shirt as she scratches his back. </p><p>"Impossible," he hears her assure, her fingers moving their way up his neck and through his hair, massaging his scalp, "you're going to be the best dad." </p><p>And he's sure she believes that, she has always had a knack for believing in him when he can't do it for himself, but he feels the need to remind her of the long line of shitty fathers planted in his roots. He doesn't even know what a good dad looks like, let alone the best one.</p><p>--Lucy's ten weeks pregnant and Tim has a lot of feelings about fatherhood--</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Bradford &amp; Lucy Chen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Will it Wash out in the Water (or is it Always in the Blood)?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, this has been in the vault for way too long and the longer I hold on to it, the more I tweak it, so i just needed to get it out there. </p><p> </p><p>Title from In The Blood by John Mayer</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first time he hears her heartbeat, she's 10 weeks inside the womb. No one could have rightly prepared him for it---a tiny little flicker inside the developing fetus, the galloping whoosh thumping inside his ears at 152 beats per minute, how it makes him feel so inadequate and exposed.<br/>
<br/>
"You okay there, dad?" The ultrasound tech asks him over the noise after seeing him hunched over in the plastic chair.<br/>
<br/>
God, it was aggravating.<br/>
<br/>
Aggrivating to know that he must have looked as sick as he felt. Aggravating that he had spent the last four weeks being the calm and level-headed support system that Lucy needed all for it to be taken down by the heartbeat of the tiny human inside of her. Especially aggravating that he was failing her, failing both of them.<br/>
<br/>
"Tim?" Lucy whispers after the tech leaves, squeezing his hand rested on her knee. Her fingers trace the gold band on his ring finger as she twists it back and forth.<br/>
<br/>
He wants to apologize, reassure her that he's fine, take the pity out of her voice, but every time he goes to talk, his throat goes taut and he's pushing down tears instead.<br/>
<br/>
"Tim, you're scaring me." The exam table paper crinkles underneath her thighs as she shifts in her spot. Her bare foot nudges the top of his knee, and she tugs on his hand."Can you at least look at me?"<br/>
<br/>
He covers his mouth and scuffs the toe of his boot into the linoleum. "God, Lucy," he chokes, lifting his gaze from the floor. His body folds inwards, like he's been punched in the gut and his head settles on the drape covering her lap. "What if I screw this up?"<br/>
<br/>
There's a few beats of just her breathing and the sound of her nails tracing circles against the cotton of his t-shirt as she scratches his back.<br/>
<br/>
"Impossible," he hears her assure, her fingers moving their way up his neck and through his hair, massaging his scalp, "you're going to be the best dad."<br/>
<br/>
And he's sure she believes that, she has always had a knack for believing in him when he can't do it for himself, but he feels the need to remind her of the long line of shitty fathers planted in his roots. He doesn't even know what a good dad looks like, let alone the best one.<br/>
<br/>
It makes the child in him ache. It makes the adult in him tremble with an unsettling fear that he would be just another rotten, angry father in the Bradford family tree.<br/>
<br/>
"You're nothing like him," his mom used to remind him every night while she filled a Ziploc with ice for his bruises or leaned against his bedroom door before he went to sleep, "you're good, Timothy."<br/>
<br/>
And it's an echo of what Lucy reminds him as they sit in his idle truck outside the doctor's office now, nursing what are now inner wounds. "I meant what I said in there." She brings his hand to her mouth, and presses a feathery kiss to the back of it. "You're nothing like him, Tim. You're a good man."<br/>
<br/>
</p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
Their drive is quiet down the 187 that morning after the appointment, the only conversations between them being the unspoken ones. Their hands are fit together over the console, her eyes glance over at him to make sure he's okay every once in a while, his hand squeezes hers to reassure her that he is.<br/>
<br/>
"You good to go in today?" He pipes up from the driver's seat as he pulls into the Mid-Wilshire parking garage. She looks over at him like maybe she isn't the correct recipient for that question, and he grumbles. "I'm just trying to make sure you're okay, Lucy."<br/>
<br/>
"I don't think you need to be asking <em>me</em> that question," she tells him, very pointedly. "I'm the same as I was four weeks ago when you asked me that. Maybe more nauseous, and definitley more tired and hormonal, but I think maybe you need to ask yourself if you are in the right headspace to be here today."<br/>
<br/>
He sighs, and swings them into his parking space. <em>Reserved for Sergeant Bradford, Mid-Wilshire Division </em>glares back at them in thick block letters, reminding him of his oath to the badge and his officers. An oath that can't be dismissed because he is unable to pull himself together.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm fine," he tries to reassure, but her raised eyebrows are already calling him on his crap. "Lucy, this is what I need right now, okay? I need-"<br/>
<br/>
He pauses long enough for her to interject. "You need what?"<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know!" He scrubs his hand down his face, frustrated that he couldn't even name it. "A distraction, I guess."<br/>
<br/>
He wished he wasn't looking at her when he said it. He wished he had found a better word or hadn't said it at all because her face screws up the minute it falls out of his mouth. She bows her head in defeat, the tears start to glisten at the corners of her eyes, and her frown trembles.<br/>
<br/>
<em>Shit. </em><br/>
<br/>
"Hey, hey," he soothes, "I didn't mean it like that. It's--" he pauses for a moment--"it's not you or the baby, Luce. It's me, and this damn complex my father gave me. I just need to escape it for a while."<br/>
<br/>
She nods her head as she wipes her stray tears with the back of her hand. He leans over to stroke his thumb against the damp apple of her cheek and presses a kiss to her forehead. "I love you," he breathes as he puts his other hand on the tiny swell of her belly, "I love both of you, okay?"<br/>
<br/>
Her forehead brushes against his as she nods. She nuzzles his nose before pressing a kiss to his waiting mouth. "We love you too," she murmurs, "please be safe for us today."<br/>
<br/>
And it wasn't ideal for him, but he follows her orders dilligently, spending his morning behind his desk, using coffee and paperwork to get him through to lunch.<br/>
<br/>
<b>My office in 20? I'm picking up tacos from the food trucks </b>he texts her that afternoon, exiting out of a file on his computer the moment he hears his stomach growl. And it isn't so much that he is desperate for food, it's more that he needs to see her, to make sure she's okay...that they're okay.<br/>
<br/>
He busies himself with locking a stack of reports inside the second drawer of his filing cabinet while he waits for her to respond.<br/>
<br/>
<b>Yes please </b>comes through first, followed by a rapid succession of requests.<br/>
<br/>
<b>Could you actually get me two slices of pizza though? Pepperoni and jalapeno.</b><br/>
<br/>
<b>Extra cheese. </b><br/>
<br/>
<b>Oh, and a chocolate chip cookie! </b><br/>
<br/>
Tim chuckles to himself. All of that seemed like a recipe for a heartburn disaster later, but at least she was managing a good appetite today. He responds with a thumbs up emoji before he deposits his phone into his back pocket and makes his way out of the office.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey, Bradford!" <em>God, please no. </em>"Excuse me! I am talking to you."<br/>
<br/>
Tim nods, and waves his hand dismissively at her. "I hear ya, detective. The whole department does too!" He can feel her glare without even turning around to look. "I'm walking to lunch. You wanna talk, you gotta keep up."<br/>
<br/>
Her heels strike faster against the tile as she picks up the pace. She eventually finds a spot next to him, matching his stride. "Is Lucy okay?"<br/>
<br/>
And there it was. </p><p>Tim's heart palpitates a little.<br/>
<br/>
She knows. How does she always know?<br/>
<br/>
He huffs and grabs Angela's wrist, rushing her down the hallway until he locates the supply closet nestled between both locker rooms. He switches the light on, and locks the door behind them.<br/>
<br/>
"God Bradford, people are going to think we are screwing," she grimaces, pushing a dirty mop and bucket out of her way. "You know they use these mops for the drunk tanks, right? You could have at least made me look a little more classy."<br/>
<br/>
Tim rolls his eyes. "Cut it out! What do you know?"<br/>
<br/>
Angela folds her arms across her chest, and looks up at him. Her comedic air has been sucked out of the room, her eyes full of concern.<br/>
<br/>
"I've been there before, Tim, nauseous, tired, more emotional than normal. It's just, from my experience, it seems like she's- or that she might be-"<br/>
<br/>
He obliges her when she leaves him hanging, filling in the blanks much to his own dismay. "Pregnant, Ang." Her eyes widen. "10 weeks today."<br/>
<br/>
There's a pause. Angela reaches next to her to balance on the handle of the mop that she had pushed away earlier. "Holy shit, Tim," she whispers, her expression going soft, "holy shit, you're going to be a dad!"<br/>
<br/>
He takes a moment to mull that over again, leaving her in her excitement.<br/>
<br/>
<em>He's going to be a dad. </em>And despite his overwhelming fear, he does want it for himself, more than he ever expected he would, but that unsettling feeling in his gut still can't help but gnaw away at him<br/>
<br/>
"Uh oh," Angela breathes, her voice sinking.<br/>
<br/>
"What?"<br/>
<br/>
"You're freaking out."<br/>
<br/>
Tim groans and rubs a hand down his face, and over his mouth. He hated that she could read him.<br/>
<br/>
"Tim..."<br/>
<br/>
"It's my dad," he mutters.<br/>
<br/>
Angela goes to reach for his arm, but he turns away and paces towards the door. When he reaches the metal, he falls into it, and raps his closed fist against it.<br/>
<br/>
Once.<br/>
<br/>
Twice.<br/>
<br/>
Three times.<br/>
<br/>
"I don't know, Ang." He turns back to face her, tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. "My dad wasn't exactly winning father of the year awards and niether was his. I'm part of this whole screwed up family tree of terrible fathers, and..."<br/>
<br/>
"You think you're next," she finishes for him.<br/>
<br/>
"I think I'm next," Tim echoes. He lets out a gutteral yell and slides his body down the door. Angela joins him on the dusty concrete floor. "God, what if I screw this kid up?"<br/>
<br/>
"Okay, first of all-" she reaches forward and when he doesn't back away she places her hands on the toes of his boots- "the fact that you are even worrying about this in the first place, tells me that you are going to be nothing like your father or grandfather."<br/>
<br/>
"Angela, that doesn't tell you sh-"<br/>
<br/>
"Ah!" She points her finger at him, scolding him as if he were a child. "I'm talking now. You are listening!"<br/>
<br/>
He tips his head back against the door and stares at the flickering tube light. "Tim, I have seen you bust down doors and move heaven and earth just to make sure that people who you don't even know are safe, and you don't think you would do the same for your child? You don't think that you would do even more?"<br/>
<br/>
He goes to answer her and she shuts him down again.<br/>
<br/>
"It's who you are, it's in your blood. You are a protector, you are a provider, and you are the safest place for Lucy <em>and</em> that baby." </p><p>They are good words. Good words that he knows Angela believes because she wouldn't have said them if she didn't. Was it too much to ask for him to believe them too? It was all he wanted, to believe, to be able to hold onto hope that somewhere along the way all of the abusive tendencies and addictions that belonged to his father and grandfather had washed out of his blood. That maybe they had been drowned out with his mother's care and bravery as she fought to keep them both alive.<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you," he murmurs, twisting his wedding band around his finger.<br/>
<br/>
"Mhm."<br/>
<br/>
A few moments of silence settle between them followed by the buzzing of his phone against the concrete floor. Angela scrambles to her feet, dusting the dirt off the back of her slacks.<br/>
<br/>
"You're going to be just fine, Bradford," she tells him, squeezing his shoulder and stepping around him to get to the door. She gestures down to the buzzing phone in his hand before she leaves, a picture of Lucy smiling back at them, "You've got her, and if I remember correctly, you two are kind of bad ass together."<br/>
<br/>
At least that was something he could smile at. He presses the 'accept call' button on his phone as Angela shuts the door behind her and clears his throat before bringing the phone up to his ear.<br/>
<br/>
"Hey," he answers, pushing himself off the floor. He looks both ways after he opens the supply closet door, awkwardly waving at one of his officers as they pass by. "I'm on my way. I got held up so it's going to be a little longer than I thought."<br/>
<br/>
She lets out a groan of dissaproval. "It better have been important. Smitty bought tuna casserole for lunch and it's stinking up the whole precinct. I am hiding in your office trying not to vomit."<br/>
<br/>
Tim snorts and carries on their conversation as he walks towards the food trucks, foregoing the closet debacle, or the fact that Angela knows. And somewhere between him getting off the phone with her before he orders their food and his walk back to his office, she falls asleep in his chair.<br/>
<br/>
It's a relief to see her so at peace, a slight grin pulling at her mouth, her hand a cage of protection stretched across her belly,  her phone laying on her chest as if she had fallen asleep while scrolling through it.<br/>
<br/>
"Lucy," he whispers as he deposits the to-go boxes on his desk and grabs her phone to set it aside. He leans over her and strokes his thumb against her cheek in an effort to stir her. All he recieves is a grumble in return. "Hey, you gotta eat something. I have your pizza."<br/>
<br/>
"So tired," she slurs, and turns her head away from his touch, "I used most of my energy trying not to vomit, and your child took the rest of it."<br/>
<br/>
He raises his eyebrows, "my child, huh?" She nods her head. "That seems convenient."<br/>
<br/>
"Mhmm," she hums, and arches her back in a stretch before unfolding her legs and blindly clambering out of his chair with her eyes half shut.<br/>
<br/>
He catches her hand as she clumsily brushes past him and she lets out a surprised yelp when he pulls her into him.<br/>
<br/>
"Hi," he laughs, his breath snagging the loose tendrils of hair framing her face. She reaches a hand up to attempt to rub the sleep out of her eyes while his hand rubs circular motions on her back.<br/>
<br/>
"You keep doing that and I am going to fall right back asleep."<br/>
<br/>
He ignores her suggestion, aiming for comfort over convenience.<br/>
<br/>
"Your loss, sparky," she mutters, and snuggles into his chest. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."<br/>
<br/>
"Oh, I know better than that." He presses a kiss to her hairline, and begins to walk her back towards his chair. "I'm putting you back in my chair, and then you are going to eat your pizza before it gets cold and I have to reheat it in the microwave."<br/>
<br/>
"Mkay."<br/>
<br/>
"You will also need this." He grabs two cold water bottles from the fridge and slides one her way. "Drink up. The cold water will help."<br/>
<br/>
"Thank you."<br/>
<br/>
He nods his head at her, and cracks open his box of street tacos from the other side of his desk.<br/>
<br/>
"How's work today?"<br/>
<br/>
The question leaves her surprised. She narrows her eyes at him as she takes a drink of water. "We never talk about work during lunch. Why today?"<br/>
<br/>
He shrugs his shoulders. It's partly for his own entertainment after spending all morning in the office, possibly a dash of him not wanting to talk about his problems, but mostly he wants to help get her mind refocused before she heads back for the remaining shift.<br/>
<br/>
They discuss her recent aggravated robbery case between bites of food, and she walks him through her process of how she was able to narrow down the suspects with the evidence given and garner a confession.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm proud of you, babe." He brings the lip of his water bottle to his mouth and takes a quick swig. "You kicked ass!"<br/>
<br/>
A red flush crawls up her neck and to her cheeks at the compliment. She does a bow in the chair for theatrics, offering him a small thank you, before they fall into a comfortable silence for the remaining 15 minutes of their lunch.<br/>
<br/>
"Shit," Tim mutters when his phone goes off. Lucy glances up from her phone to see him pace towards his filing cabinet and punch a code in to unlock the top drawer. "I completely forgot that I have a meeting with Grey in five minutes."<br/>
<br/>
A knock sounds at the door.<br/>
<br/>
"Or now."<br/>
<br/>
Lucy gathers her things at the noise and picks up both of their boxes for disposal while Tim goes to let him in, brushing any crumbs off his uniform on his way.<br/>
<br/>
"Sergeant Bradford," he greets with a firm handshake and nod before casting his eyes over to Lucy in the far corner of the office throwing the trash away. His face gives way to a smile seeing the two of them together. "Detective Bradford, it's good to see you."<br/>
<br/>
She gives a small wave as she walks towards them. "Likewise Captain," she returns the sentiment,  stepping beside Tim and brushing his arm. "I'm gonna scoot out of your way so you two can have your meeting."<br/>
<br/>
"Hope to see you around!"<br/>
<br/>
Tim wants to laugh as she gives an over-eager nod, and hurries out the door. His phone buzzes in his pocket after she turns the corner.<br/>
<br/>
<b>I want to talk when we get home tonight. Don't think you have expertly avoided the conversation.</b><br/>
<br/>
There was no chance of him thinking that. He's been with her long enough to know that she likes to hold on to things until they are thoroughly talked through. He's just surprised that they make it through their drive home and shuffle their way through their evening routine before she cracks.<br/>
<br/>
"I'm scared too, ya know?"<br/>
<br/>
She doesn't have to say it for him to know that it's true.<br/>
<br/>
Just a few weeks ago, he was the one holding her as she was curled up on the bathroom floor, crying and googling whether it was possible to get 10 false positive pregnancy tests. He was the one that called the doctor and made the first appointment for her when she felt like she couldn't even get the words <em>I'm pregnant </em>out of her mouth.<br/>
<br/>
She pulls a ponytail from the drawer next to her hand and twists her hair into a top knot as she continues to speak. "Those first couple of weeks, I had the same thought running through my head every day. My mind had already made itself up that I was going to be a terrible mother because the only thing I could feel was fear.<br/>
<br/>
Fear of not being prepared. Fear of not being good enough. Fear that it wasn't the right time for me or us. And if we are being honest, fear of pushing this baby out of me."<br/>
<br/>
Tim lets out a huff of laughter and pulls her back into his chest, wrapping his arms around her stomach. He rests his chin on her shoulder and watches her speak to their reflection in the bathroom mirror as she takes a makeup wipe to her face.<br/>
<br/>
"The only thing that I never once doubted or feared though was you." She scrubs her cheeks, forehead, nose, and chin, and then moves to her eyelids to get the eyeliner and mascara off. When she finishes, she drops the makeup wipe on the counter and shifts around in his arms until they are face to face. Her hand reaches out to cup his cheek, and he turns his head to press a kiss to the center of her palm. "I don't need you to be strong for me, Tim," she tells him. He quickly goes to defend himself but she moves a hand to his chest, pushing him back a little to cut him off. "Hey, stop. Just listen to me."<br/>
<br/>
He lets out a breath and nods his head, his eyes holding his promise to her.<br/>
<br/>
"Babe, I want you to have the space to feel what you feel, and more than anything, I want you to feel those things with me." Lucy runs her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, and pulls him closer to her by the waist. "I want you to hear me when I tell you that I know that your father hurt you, but Tim, your hands, they wipe tears, and doctor wounds, and hold close the people you care about most.<br/>
<br/>
"You," she emphasizes, "are a gentle, healing hand. You don't instill fear, you calm it, just like you calmed me down on this same bathroom tile 4 weeks ago, telling me that we can do this. That maybe it wasn't what we expected but we have eachother, remember that?"<br/>
<br/>
He nods in response. There are a few of his own tear stains on his blue LA rams tee she uses as her night shirt, ones that weren't there 5 minutes ago. He used to do his best to hide them, swiping them away or blinking them back before anyone else could see them. Not anymore though. He's come to learn the magic of the pads of her thumbs catching the tears as they roll down his cheeks, which is what she does for him now before she steps out of his arms and lifts the hem of her t-shirt up revealing her stomach. She guides his hand to the small bump that was unrecognizable to anyone but the two of them.<br/>
<br/>
"This baby," she squeezes his wrist, "this baby is so lucky because they have you in their corner."<br/>
<br/>
"How can you be so sure of that?"<br/>
<br/>
Lucy smiles at his crackly voice, and rolls up on her tip toes to firmly press her lips against his. "Because I know you, Tim Bradford, and I know what it's like to have you in my corner---to be loved by you every day."<br/>
<br/>
She wipes his tears away as he hoists her up on the countertop and steps between her legs. They stay there for a moment, foreheads pressed against one another, a stolen kiss here and there, tear trails drying underneath the A/C blowing from the vent above them.<br/>
<br/>
"Let's go to bed," he whispers, gripping her legs from underneath her thighs. She anchors her legs around his waist as he lifts her off the countertop, and mumbles an okay into the crook of his neck.<br/>
<br/>
"I love you."<br/>
<br/>
He knows.<br/>
<br/>
She reaches her hand out to shut off the lights as he leads them out of the bathroom and to the edge of their mattress. When his knees hit the memory foam, he gently lays her on top of their down comforter and settles in beside her, head at her stomach, and fingers toying at the hem of her night shirt. He lifts the worn, blue fabric and presses a kiss right above her navel.<br/>
<br/>
"I love you both."<br/>
<br/>
It's the same sentiment from earlier in the truck, his voice lighter, less strained. She echoes her response back as she runs her fingers through his hair and he mumbles things against her stomach that she can't hear.<br/>
<br/>
"Tim?" She prods a few quiet moments later.<br/>
<br/>
"Hmm?" He hums, not looking up at her. She gently tugs on his hair to steal his attention and he throws her a quick glance.<br/>
<br/>
"It's lonely up here by myself."<br/>
<br/>
"That so?"<br/>
<br/>
She nods and the corners of his mouth quirk up against her belly before he maneuvers his way up to their headboard.<br/>
<br/>
"Better?" He teases. He tugs her close and leans in just enough, his mouth hovering right over hers.<br/>
<br/>
A hand reaches out and gets a fistful of his t-shirt, pulling him to her the rest of the way and closing the gap between them. "Now it is."<br/>
<br/>
And wasn't that the same answer he would give for most things in his life after she climbed over brick walls and barbed wire fences just to maneuver her way into his heart?<br/>
<br/>
<em>Better? </em>Now it is because for so long he had believed that his story was defined by his past, that the roots in the tree were planted too deep and he would only further add to the rot. But now, looking at her, loving her, <em>entering parenthood with her,</em> he knows that this is his story, his redemption, his revival. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed! Comments and Kudos are always deeply appreciated ❤</p></blockquote></div></div>
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